


A Study in Grief

by MaggieLoo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Gen, I'm Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieLoo/pseuds/MaggieLoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly is dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Sudden inspiration at 1:45 A.M. Not betad, not britpicked.

The call came from Lestrade at 12:39 on a Wednesday. Molly had been hit by a cab while crossing the street to get her lunch. The cab was traveling at a dangerously unlawful speed, Molly was gravely injured. The doctors weren’t sure how much longer she had. Come quick, she’s fading fast.

Without a moment’s hesitation Sherlock ran out the door, barely pausing to tell John to grab his coat and follow him. 

The cab stopped outside the hospital. As always, John was left to pay when Sherlock dashed out of the cab without a thought. This time, John would spare Sherlock the lecture on being considerate. This time, John understood.

Sherlock saw Lestrade almost immediately, deathly pale. He motioned for Sherlock to follow him and for once Sherlock listened to him.

Sherlock had seen many horrific sights that fascinated and delighted him to no end. This time it was different. There was nothing fascinating or delightful about seeing Molly, his Molly, Molly that had always mattered looking smaller than ever against the white expanse of the sterile hospital sheets, pale from blood loss, hair matted with blood. If it was anyone else, Sherlock might have noticed the massive amount of blood that seemed to be everywhere. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Molly. And that’s all that Sherlock could see.

Noticing her visitors, Molly attempted to smile but only managed a pained grimace. She held out a tiny hand, Sherlock clasped it between his own without a thought. Despite their odd relationship, Sherlock and Molly shared a kinship that neither of them seemed ready to let go of.

John stood at her feet, a comforting hand on her knee. Lestrade was on the side opposite Sherlock, his tanned skin in sharp contrast from Molly’s own rapidly greying skin.

But Molly only had eyes for one person. Sherlock, her Sherlock, Sherlock that had asked the impossible of her, Sherlock that had left her for a year after faking his death, Sherlock that had given her strict orders to lie to John’s face about Sherlock’s continuing existence. But she had done it. She would do anything for him.

As Molly’s eyes glazed over, Sherlock shed a tear. Sherlock hadn’t cried when either of his parents had died, but here he was, crying over a coroner who was for all intents and purposes insignificant.  
But Molly mattered.

She had always mattered.


End file.
